Elephants and Castles

by John Patrick

Elizabeth lay Alice on the bed and stripped her down. She methodically inspected every inch of her body for blemishes. There were none to be found but that didn't stop her checking again five minutes later, and again and again. She watched every breath; she gently touched her eye lashes and watched for a flicker of life. Then she would pace anxiously up and down the room. Was this plague? Was this how it started? Or was this just a summer cold? She knew some people developed chest infections with it and Alice was coughing. She would search herself for spots and sores too, feel her own forehead for fever and then sit with Alice again on the bed and start the scrutiny of her young body all over again. How long before she could know for sure? Should she abandon her to ensure her own safety, leave her locked in the bedroom alone? But she didn't look sick enough to have plague, or perhaps she did. She couldn't decide. And anyway, if Alice did have plague then she probably did too; so perhaps she should lock herself away to protect Mary and Samuel. Her thinking was usually clear, decisive; but not today. Her head hurt. She wondered about the stone, what power it might have. She found these sorts of myths hard to believe, but it wouldn't do any harm to try it. Surely God would understand that these are desperate times and a mother would do whatever she could to save her child. This couldn't be the work of the devil and even if it was, she would be the one to pay, not Alice, surely. She had carried up the charmed jug of water that Samuel had treated with the stone. She poured a small cup and began giving Alice sips every few minutes.

  Mary and Samuel were careful to complete all of the chores, and a few more for good measure. Eventually, Miss Pewtersmith disappeared for another nap so the children slipped across to the carriage house to check on their patient. Mary climbed onto the bottom rung of the ladder.

  'Helloo children'. The voice was little more than a whisper, soft enough to have been imagined. They turned and there lying on a bed of straw was the feeble old frame of Mother Munro covered with a blanket. She tried to sit up but only managed to raise her shoulders a few inches before wincing in pain and collapsing back to the bed. A rat darted from behind her.

  In the main bedroom of the house flies were buzzing around Miss Pewtersmith's face and annoying her. She wafted them away with irate swipes until one went exploring deep into her throat. She sat bolt upright coughing and spluttering. That was the last straw; she'd have to get up. She stomped angrily down the stairs. Where were those lazy, useless children? They'd feel her wrath if they hadn't done their chores. They'd feel it if they had. She could hear distant coughs and crying from Alice. She wasn't reassured by Elizabeth's promise that this was just a cold. Perhaps it was time to throw them all out, have the place to herself before it was too late. She threw open the kitchen door ready to give vent to her anger, but the room was empty. Through the window she could see the carriage house door slightly ajar. That was where those good-for-nothing children would be.

  Mary and Samuel crouched by Mother Munro.

  'Is that the pootion?' the old woman whispered.

  Samuel nodded then gently held the jug to her mouth and allowed her to sip. She tugged the jug out of his hand and gulped it down.

  'Thank you my child.' She sounded a little stronger. 'I'll be needing a lot more o' that if I'm to get well again.'

  'But how did you get here?' asked Samuel looking at her frail body 'An' what's up with ya?'

  'Friends brought me, good friends. I knew after your visit that you'd be here with the stoon. I had a wee trip, a fall. I've hurt my hip, badly. I canna walk.'

  A look of alarm swept across Mary's face. She was knelt behind the old woman's head. She furrowed her brow and shook her head violently at Samuel. They couldn't manage another hospital case.

  'Can you get me some food children? I've a poowerful hunger in ma belly. An' where's that stoon. Can I hold the stoon?'

  Samuel reached a hand into his pocket for the stone but Mary grabbed his arm and stopped him. 'We left the stone in the house didn't we, Sam? We'll go find it and get you some grub.' She jumped to her feet and pulled Samuel with her.

  'But I've got...' Samuel started

  'Come on Samuel! Let's go get it.' She held onto his arm until she'd pulled him out of the carriage house.

  'What you do that for? I 'ad it in me pocket all the time!' Samuel pushed her hand off his arm.

  'I know you 'ave but we can't look after 'er an' all. What if Miss P finds 'er?'

  'But what else we gonna do with 'er?' Samuel thought for a moment. 'Maybe we could take 'er back to Aunt Fran's place.'

  'No, we leave this place once more an' Mum won't let us back in.'

  'Oh shit!' groaned Samuel 'Looks who's comin'!'

  Miss Pewtersmith was marching across the driveway from the house. 'Right you two. What you doin' shirkin' off? What you bloody well up to over 'ere any'ow?' She headed for the door into the carriage house.

  Samuel stepped in her way. 'We just been tidyin' up. There's nothin' in there 'cept them rats.'

  But Miss Pewtersmith wasn't going to be so easily put off this time. She shoved Samuel out of the way and marched inside.

  At first she saw nothing out of place. Her eyesight was poor and it took a moment to adapt from the bright sun outside to the dingy carriage house interior. She squinted at the pile of straw and cloth against the wall. Was that someone lying there under that blanket? Surely not!

  'Good morning Madam.' Mother Munro's voice was sprightlier now. 'Did you bring me food?'

  Miss Pewtersmith squealed. Now she clearly saw the old woman lying on the straw and smiling back at her.

  'Very nice to meet ye.' added Mother Munro.

  Miss Pewtersmith's mouth was wide open, but for once she was lost for words. She edged backwards to the door, as if scared turning her back on the old woman might invite her to pounce. A cough came from the balcony, then another louder one, and a sneeze.

  'Oh my good God!' screamed Miss Pewtersmith '’Ow many you got in 'ere? It's a bloody sick 'ouse!’ She ran out of the door and across the drive to the kitchen. She slammed the door behind her and bolted it shut.

  'Elizabeth! Elizabeth!' she screeched 'You get down 'ere, now! You wanna see what those brats o' yours are doin'! They're runnin' a bloody infirmary over there! You're out! D'you 'ear me? The 'ole bloody lot of ya! Out!'

  'That's it.' moaned Mary. 'We're dead. Miss P'll chuck us all out on the street. Mum'll murder us. We might as well 'ave just caught plague.'

  'Nonsense girl, dinna be sae wet! Come here, reet noo, the pair o' ye.' ordered Mother Munro. She had an excited glint in her eye. 'Noo, ye must act quickly. In times like these, ye have te use yer imagination. Ye got t'play the fat one at her oon game.'

  'Elizabeth! Get down 'ere right now!' Miss Pewtersmith screamed again up the stairs.

  The outside door rattled as Mary and Samuel tried to gain entrance.

  'Get away! It's locked! You're not coming in! Elizabeth! Elizabeth!'

  Elizabeth meantime had her young daughter now sleeping on her lap. She wasn't in any hurry to disturb her for the sake of satisfying Miss Pewtersmith. She stayed where she was.

  The kitchen had two small windows high up on the wall protected by iron bars. They were kept open through the summer for ventilation. Samuel had long noticed that the bars weren't evenly placed and he had always fancied that he could squeeze his scrawny body through the largest of the gaps. Now he would find out. Mary stood on a wooden crate and Samuel stood on her shoulders and stretched his arms up towards the bars.

  'Stay still Mary won't ya? How'm I s'posed to get up there if you're all over the place!'

  'I'm tryin'! You're 'eavy, 'urry up!'

  Samuel managed to get a hold of a bar and tried to hoist himself up. His feet slipped and skidded on the wall.

  ''Ere. Stand on me 'ands.' Mary held her hands up. Samuel's bare feet were black with dirt. She cringed a little but Samuel was finally up. He hauled himself up between the bars and wriggled his head and shoulders though the gap. But what could he do now? He was eight feet up on the kitch
en wall looking down at the flagstones, his legs still dangling outside. If he let himself go he'd smash his head on the floor. He wished he'd thought about that earlier.

  Miss Pewtersmith was fuming by the foot of the stairs and hadn't noticed Samuel squeezing between the bars. 'Elizabeth! Elizabeth!' She bawled up the stairs again.

  'Go on Sam! Get in there!' Mary was impatient. She jumped up from the crate and shoved his feet upwards.

  'Oi, stop it!' shouted Samuel. But his centre of gravity had already passed too far through the window; there was no stopping himself. He slipped through the bars and tumbled head first onto the stone floor. For a moment he was dazed, but when his senses returned he saw Miss Pewtersmith stood several feet back with a rolling pin in her hand. Samuel rubbed the side of his face; it was wet with blood.

  'You get out of 'ere, you dirty little sod! You're diseased! Get out!'

  Samuel struggled to his feet but his legs felt as if they belonged to someone else. He staggered forwards like a new born calf. Miss Pewtersmith squealed and ran behind the table.

  Mary banged on the door. 'Sam, let me in!'

  'Don't you open that! I'm warnin' ya! Don't you let that other dirty urchin in 'ere!'

  Samuel stumbled to the door. He slid open the bolt and Mary pushed the door open.

  Miss Pewtersmith stepped back against the wall. ‘You little buggers!'

  Samuel slumped into a kitchen chair.

  'Miss P. We ain't well' declared Mary 'Look!' she rolled up a sleeve revealing fat, black swellings on her upper arm. 'An' 'ere as well.' She hoisted up her skirt to show off another. 'And look at Sammy.' She pulled up his shirt to reveal three large black marks evenly spread across his chest. 'Can you 'elp us Miss P?' She pulled Samuel to his feet and shoved him staggering in one direction while she walked around the other side of the table.

  'Get away! Get away!' Miss Pewtersmith tried to climb over the kitchen table but couldn't raise her leg high enough to get up. She dropped to her hands and knees and crawled underneath. 'Get out of 'ere. I'm warning ya! Get out!'

  Mary crouched down and began to crawl under the table towards her.

  Miss Pewtersmith could take no more. The house was now full of plague, the carriage house was an infirmary and she was staring death in the face. She had to get away. She scrambled out from under the table and ran for the door, knocking Samuel over in her haste to escape.

  'Good job Sam! She's gone. Sam. Sam?'

  Elizabeth came through the door. Howls from Alice echoed down the stairs behind her. 'What is all the noise about? Where's that woman gone? Samuel? What's up with Samuel?'

  'He fell over.' Mary pulled her sleeve down to cover the fake sores she'd made from the pitch in the carriage house.

  Elizabeth knelt alongside Samuel and dabbed away the blood from his head. 'You need to be more careful Samuel. Now listen both of you. Your sister is sick. It's probably nothin' but you keep away from her. No one but me is to go into her room from now on. You keep out, d'you hear me?'

  Chapter 25